Part 2: The Craziness of Nighttime Travel

So, I have two stories to tell and both of them bring to mind feeling a little helpless and a little scared. Well, one of them a lot scared and the other just out of place. Both of them taught me something and both of them made me tired the next day. :)
#1 - Paris
To summarize - no place to stay, all hostels full, late at night stuck at a train station. So I decided to get on a train - any train that I thought was going to be traveling at least a couple of hours so I could catch a train back to Paris in the early morning - most start running by 5:00 or 6:00. So I went to a town on the northern coast, and slept on the train for a couple of hours. When I got there I had a couple of hours till the train left back to Paris so I decided to sleep in the waiting area, which I did. However, I didn't realize that this station, unlike some of the others I had been at, close down between the last trains and the first trains, so I almost got kicked out. But the station manager, who spoke just enough English for us to communicate, kindly let me stay and locked the doors of the waiting room so I could sleep safely. When she opened the station not long after, she moved me to her office so I could stay away from a vagabond who had just walked it off the street and whom she recognized as "not a good man." So, all in all, not a scenario I would want to repeat and yes, I should have taken Laura up on her offer of staying with her friend - but that's another story. However, I did get kissed on the cheek by a very handsome black man who spoke no English but thought I was a friend of the station manager's and greeted me with the customary French "kiss."

#2 - Caen
After my awesome day in Normandy, I was taking an overnight ferry to Portsmouth, England. My ticket said it left from Caen, so I took the train there, found out where the port was (not far from where I was), and treated myself to dinner at a creperie. I left with a total of 5 pounds and 0 euros to my name, because the restaurant had not accepted my card and I had to use all of my cash to pay for the food. So, penniless and a couple hours out from departure, I headed towards the port. Then I started seeing these signs towards Ouistriem (Car Ferry). My thought was, o cool, it must leave from the far side of the port and I'll just follow these signs. But pretty soon I was climbing a big hill beside a castle, and leaving the inhabited area of Caen, and feeling pretty unsure - the port was not this far away. I rounded a corner and my worst dream came true - a sign that read Ouistriem - 15 km. Now, had I had a whole day or a few more hours in the sunlight, that would not have bothered me so much. But I had an hour and a half to make it these 15 km, and I was really supposed to check in in 45 minutes. 15 km is like 9 miles. It was NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!! My first thought was to find a bus going that way and bribe the driver to let me on without any money - but when I got to the next stop I found the buses were not running anymore this evening. At the end of my rope (I thought) I entertained the idea of hitchhiking, and even walked with my thumb out for a quarter mile - but no cars stopped, and I was getting really scared and upset and crying because I had no way of righting this situation. Eventually I found myself lost in a part of Caen that was not meant for lost souls with big backpacks in the middle of the night, and was just crying and praying that God would keep me safe - no longer with any expectation of getting to Ouistriem.
Then along came a white van. Now, I know the reputation, fed by horror films and news reels, of white vans in dark scary streets. But when this van stopped, three French women lowered their windows and asked if I needed help, which of course was obviously the case. Through the driver's broken English I was able to communicate where I was trying to get, and they told me to get in. I have never, never, felt so relieved and thankful as I did at that moment. Those women, those pot-smoking, hippie women with the cans of Coke in the backseat, where God-sent angels to me that night. They ended up driving me the whole way, giving me a Coke to take with me and would not take the 2 euro coin I offered (all I had left). They were so kind, and generous, and took care of me in a way I seldom take care of others.
That night, safe and sound on the ferry, I think I felt like I had been delivered from a lot of things - from insecurity, from fear, but most of all from a doubt that God can do all things. ALL things - including saving me from a hopeless situation, including protecting me when I was Much Afraid (see Hinds Feet on High Places for that reference). I told a friend later that I don't think I can ever doubt God's faithfulness in the same way after that night. And though I have found myself needing a reminder lately, my life was uprooted and flipped around that night. And I wouldn't want to go back!